


fools with hearts that tried too hard

by QueenofDuctTape



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-Hogwarts, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25631281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofDuctTape/pseuds/QueenofDuctTape
Summary: For the 2020 Sounds Like Dramione Competition on the Dramione Fanfiction Forum. My prompt was "Maybe all we are is fools with hearts that tried too hard/And maybe that's just fine as long as you're here in my arms" from Maybe, I'm afraid by lovelytheband.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 35
Kudos: 53
Collections: 2020 Sounds Like Dramione





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [2020SoundsLikeDramione](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2020SoundsLikeDramione) collection. 



> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you to my alpha and/or beta for their time and help.  
> The prompt for my story was:
> 
> "Maybe all we are is fools with hearts that tried too hard  
> And maybe that's just fine as long as you're here in my arms"
> 
> from Maybe, I'm afraid by lovelytheband

_ Dancing in your party dress  
You were singing me some Frank Sinatra as you wept  
Pull me close enough  
It seems like we lost touch so hold me as the record skips _

* * *

Six years after the war isn’t the first memorial ball Hermione attends, but it is the first one she has to go to by herself. Harry usually takes the brunt of the attention but this year he’s at home with Ginny and the new baby, James. Ron doesn’t crave the spotlight like he used to and he arranged to be at work today before he realized that Harry wouldn't be there either, leaving Hermione by herself with the attention and lights and the cameras and the speech-making. She thinks she muddled through alright, attempting to walk the line between being mournful for their losses and hopeful for the future and how far they’ve already come. But it’s hard to think of how far they’ve come when she’s back at Hogwarts, surrounded by people who were at the battle too. She blinks, and suddenly they’re not in their fancy clothes; it’s 1998 again and their faces are bruised and streaked with ash and smoke, their clothes torn and bloodied. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes and when she opens them again she’s back in the present and Kingsley is wearing resplendent robes and offering her a glass of champagne. She accepts it but quickly makes her excuses and escapes to the gardens. 

The grounds are beautifully regrown, the gardens lit with actual fairies for the event, creating an ethereal romantic atmosphere with the verdant spring scent in the air. But it's the second of May and she blinks and the grounds are blackened and upheaved by the footsteps of giants, the scent in the air is not of light and soothing flowers but acrid, clinging smoke. Hermione coughs reflexively and stumbles blindly to a bench. The cool stone is soothing and helps to ground her. She cries softly and breathes deeply, laying on the bench and praying the feelings pass before someone else stumbles out here.

Hermione doesn't know how long she lays on the bench in the garden courtyard but it's long enough that the stone stops being soothing and starts feeling just cold. She's almost convinced herself to get up and warm up and go back inside when she feels the comfort of a Warming Charm dispel her goosebumps and then a man’s jacket descends over her shoulders and chases the last of the cold away. She senses a presence take a seat down by her feet, close enough that she can tell they’re there but carefully not touching her. 

“It’s hard to come back,” says a familiar voice that she can’t quite match up to a face. It’s not one of her close friends or acquaintances but definitely someone that she knows. “It’s harder today, always,” the voice continues. “But it gets easier the more you do it. Do you ever come back at other times of the year?” 

“No,” Hermione replies. “I’ve been invited a couple of times to speak to students on a couple of topics but I’ve always refused.” She sits up, and finds that the voice and the jacket belong to none other than Draco Malfoy. Speechless, she stares at him unabashedly, noting the differences in her former classmate. He’s taller than he was, though perhaps he only seems so because the last time she saw him he tended to hunch and make himself smaller. He’s filled out a bit, still slim but not as skinny and borderline malnourished as he appeared during his last couple of years at school. He’s still pale but not to the sickly point that he was during the war. The biggest difference is his expression. He isn’t sneering at her, or smirking or glaring, but smiling softly and for a second he is so handsome she almost forgets to breathe. 

“You should come back for other events,” he tells her and the spell is broken. “Personally, I like winter. It’s harder to picture the grounds on fire when they’re covered in snow.”

She hums in acknowledgement of his point and stands. “Are you going back in?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “No, I was just walking to the Apparition point when I saw you here on the bench.”

Hermione had been planning on going back inside, maybe joining in on a couple of dances but the more she thought about it, the more she just wanted to go home, change out of her party dress, and curl up with a cup of tea and a nice book. 

Malfoy walked her to the Apparition point in Hogsmeade, and to her surprise their conversation did not flag the whole way there. No explicit mention of a truce was made, but Hermione felt confident that they parted as tentative friends, or at least acquaintances, and she was smiling as she Apparated back home to her own living room. 

* * *

Before she encountered him at the ball, Hermione hadn’t seen Draco Malfoy since all the trials that stretched into 1999, but after that evening suddenly she started seeing him all over the Ministry. 

“Are you following me?” she joked on one occasion, nearly bowling him over in the hallway. After the rapport they’d developed on the walk to Hogsmeade, she expected him to laugh and continue on his way but instead he ducked his head and looked decidedly guilty. Hermione stopped. “Malfoy, wait,” she said, putting her hand on his arm to keep from moving on as well. “ _ Are _ you following me?”

“Sort of, yes,” Malfoy replied, looking anywhere but at her face and she could almost swear she saw the hint of a blush color his cheeks. 

“Um, why?” she wondered aloud. Hermione tried to decide how she felt about this. She certainly wasn’t scared. His demeanor was anything but threatening.

“Well,” he scratched the back of his head, reminding her so much of Harry that she had to stop herself from laughing. “We had—I didn’t—but—sorry?”

“Wait, what?"

Malfoy took a deep breath and began again. “I’m sorry. I should have said it last week but I'm a coward and I didn't. I'm sorry for all the stupid, hurtful shit I said to you when we were kids and for making fun of your hair. You have beautiful hair. And I'm sorry for everything that happened to you and to your friends in my house, while I just—"

Hermione held up a hand to stop the stream of words pouring from his mouth. He paused, breathless, and she smiled up at him. “Let’s go to dinner,” she suggested impulsively. 

Malfoy blinked at her. “What?”

The more Hermione thought about it, the more she liked this idea. “It’s six o’clock on Friday, Malfoy. I don’t know what you’re still doing here, but I’m hungry and my work can wait until Monday. How do you feel about pizza?”

“Pizza?”

“I refuse to believe that you were somehow so sheltered that you don’t even know what pizza is.”

“Of course I know what pizza is. But you want to get pizza with me?”

“My reasons for inviting you to pizza are threefold—” here Malfoy huffed out a laugh, but Hermione pressed on, “—one, you make a damn good apology; two, you are pretty cute when you’re embarrassed and it’s endearing, and three, I’m hungry.”

Malfoy laughed, a real, joyous laugh that brightened his face and Hermione never wanted him to stop. “Alright, Granger, let’s go get some pizza.”

* * *

At a Muggle pizza place near the Ministry, Draco picked up their conversation from earlier while they were waiting for their order to arrive. “So, Granger, you said I make a good apology? I thought it was a bit rambling, but it sounds like I am forgiven.”

Hermione waved a hand at his statement. “Maybe a bit rambling, but you get points for being specific about what you’re apologizing for and  _ major _ points for just saying you’re sorry and not making excuses. You’re forgiven the ignorant things you said to me when we were kids. As for anything that happened during the war… I don’t think that was your fault, or that you personally have anything to apologize to me for about that.”

Malfoy held her gaze and didn’t look away as she spoke. His silver gaze was hypnotic. “I disagree about things being my fault during the war, but…” he smiled and his gaze softened. “I think we can officially move past the awkward stage of this conversation and move on to the fun part. I believe you also said I was cute?” 

Hermione laughed and took a sip of her drink. She didn’t respond but the blush on her cheeks was probably answer enough for him. 

* * *

They stayed long after their pizza was gone and two rounds of drinks after that. The dining room had cleared out and they were beginning to get pointed looks from the staff. After settling the bill, they gathered their jackets and headed for the door. At the exit, Draco turned to Hermione, preparing to say goodnight and head to their respective homes. 

"Come back to my place," Hermione blurted. Draco raised an impeccable eyebrow, and she blushed. "Not like  _ that _ !" she exclaimed. "I just don't want this night to end." 

"Me either, but I hope you're not expecting anything, Granger. I’m not that easy on the first date." Draco winked and offered her his arm. She took it and, with a  _ crack _ , apparated them both to her flat. 

Hermione went to the kitchen, busying herself making them coffee while Draco took the opportunity to explore the living area of her flat. There was a large fireplace, presumably connected to the Floo Network, the mantle of which was decorated with an eclectic collection of photos. Most of them were actively smiling and waving at him, but a few were weirdly still to his eye though he knew they were the standard in the Muggle world. The Muggle photos were interspersed sporadically throughout the Wizarding ones, much like the witch herself he supposed. Hermione did not have Muggle parts of her life and Wizarding parts of her life, she simply seemed to live. He moved on to her bookshelf, which was a similar mix of magical and Muggle texts. Some sections like Charms obviously only contained magical books, but he noticed the fiction section was organized alphabetically by author, regardless of which world the book was from. Overall, Draco found the effect quite charming and comfortable and selected a slim volume to peruse while he waited for Hermione. 

“Coffee’s ready!” she said brightly, carrying it in on a small tray which she sat on the coffee table. “I wasn’t sure how you took it so I brought out milk and sugar and some creamer just in case.”

She inquired about the book he had chosen, and they fixed their coffee and discussed books for over an hour. Draco couldn’t remember when he’d had a better evening, or a more passionate conversation partner, but as the clock ticked on, eventually he had to get home. 

Hermione walked him to her door and anxiety overtook her features. “Can I see you again? Do you do this often and I was just a nice person to spend an evening with but now we’ll go back to not seeing each other for years?” she rambled. 

"Now, Granger," Draco chastised, "I don't kiss and tell." He winked and swooped in, planting a small kiss at the corner of her mouth. The kiss was over nearly before it began and by the time Hermione had processed what was happening he was halfway down the hall already. 

Monday afternoon, Hermione received an interdepartmental memo. It was unsigned, and simply said  _ Friday? _ in an elegant script. She smiled and sent back a reply. 

_ Friday.  _


	2. two

_ Champagne for dinner  
I'm swaying from side to side  
Too much to think tonight  
She said "I hope that we're worth saving  
Sometimes you will hate me, but that's alright" _

* * *

Friday nights became a regular thing. Sometimes they got takeaway and ate it on the couch at Hermione’s flat (once Draco insisted on the table but immediately agreed that it was better on the couch so they didn’t do that again), and sometimes they went out, always in the Muggle world where neither of them would be recognized. Both of them readily (albeit nervously) agreed that they were dating exclusively, and both hedged when it came to admitting to their friends exactly  _ who _ they were seeing. 

Hermione had missed one Friday due to Harry’s birthday party in July, and Draco had missed one for Theo and Daphne’s engagement party. 

This particular Friday had bled into Saturday morning, and Draco was reluctantly leaving to change before his mother expected him for brunch. 

“Same time next Friday?” Hermione asked him, and Draco groaned. 

“I can’t. Friends are getting together at Blaise’s house for games, etc. I’ve been called out for missing too many times already, but—”

“Saturday instead?” Hermione interrupted.

“Actually,” said Draco, “I was thinking you could come with me.” 

There was a long silence, and Hermione pulled back to search his face. 

“Are you sure?” she asked even though she saw no hesitation in his eyes. 

Instead of replying to her question, Draco leaned back in, but he didn’t kiss her. He simply rested his forehead gently against hers. “I love you,” he whispered reverently. 

Hermione let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding, and leaned closer into him. “Okay, I’ll go.”

* * *

Over the course of the week, Draco and Hermione coordinated plans for Friday evening, and arranged to out themselves to her friends as well the following week. Ginny wanted to have dinner in honor of Hermione's birthday, and when Hermione owled to say she'd finally be introducing them to her mysterious boyfriend, she got a howler in response comprised only of Ginny's excited squeals. Hermione might have been annoyed by this under normal circumstances, but since Ginny's shrieks were interspersed with James' happy baby squeals, the letter warmed her heart and she took it home to keep next to the picture of herself and James on the mantle. 

On Friday, Draco picked Hermione up at her flat. Since the Zabinis had a history of paranoia, Blaise’s home was heavily warded against outsiders. Draco would have to side-along them to just outside the gates of Blaise’s property and the two of them would have to walk on foot up to the entrance. 

When they arrived, Hermione was relieved to note that the house was just a large house and not nearly as intimidating as Malfoy Manor. She gripped Draco’s hand tightly on the walk up to the front door, even past the point where she needed to be in contact with him as the unknown visitor. Draco’s fingers tightened around hers as well as he raised his wand to ring the doorbell. 

The door was flung open almost immediately, before the bell was even finished ringing. 

“Draco, you made it!” Blaise exclaimed jovially. “It’s been too long, mate!” His face visibly fell as he caught sight of Hermione and he raised his eyebrows almost comically at Draco before greeting her as well. “Granger, good to see you,” he said stiffly. 

Hermione pasted a cheerful smile on her face, and offered him the wine Draco had assured her was a good choice. “Thank you for having me, Zabini. You have a lovely home.”

He gestured them inside, but Hermione heard him mutter “You haven’t even seen it yet,” after she had passed him. 

Draco and Hermione left their jackets in the cloak room and Blaise led them into the game room. Hermione hung back in the doorway as Blaise took his seat between Pansy Parkinson and Theo Nott. It looked like they were the last to arrive, despite being five minutes early. Although Hermione wouldn't have put it past them to tell Draco a later time so they could present a united front to the newcomer like this. His friends were Slytherins, after all. 

Draco seemed to realize that she hadn't immediately followed him into the room. He turned and reached his hand back to take hers again, then addressed the group. "Everyone, I know you've met before, but this is my girlfriend, Hermione. Hermione, you've met Blaise, and the rest are Theo, Daphne, her sister Astoria, Greg, his sister Marian, and of course Pansy." 

"Nice to see you all again," Hermione said, smiling weakly. 

"Yes, Granger, lovely to see you as well,” replied Pansy acidly, her gaze narrowed on Draco. 

Hermione lifted her chin but didn’t respond, following Draco to the empty seats between Astoria Greengrass and Greg Goyle. 

The rest of the evening followed in a similar vein. Draco’s friends largely seemed to follow Pansy’s lead, and Hermione had to listen to a great deal of passive-aggressive remarks about her hairstyle, dress style and color, and many inside jokes that she smiled wanly through as the Slytherins laughed uproariously. Draco’s scowl progressively deepened as the night wore on, until finally an acceptable amount of time had passed that they could take their leave without seeming too impolite. Hermione excused herself to the loo while Draco collected their jackets. 

As she approached the cloak closet to meet back up with Draco, she paused outside the door, hearing voices.

“—and what were you even thinking, bringing her here tonight?” hissed Pansy. Hermione froze. 

“I was thinking I might spend a pleasant evening hanging out with my friends and my girlfriend, but I guess that thought was too good to be true.” Draco was louder, trying to keep his voice down, but anger increased his volume as the sentence went on. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Draco. She’s having you on! I don’t know what her plan is, but we’re just trying to protect you!”

“Pansy, you’re the one being ridiculous. She’s not using me; she’s not Slytherin enough for that.”

“What’s she doing with you then?”

“We happen to have a lot in common!”

“Since when? She is nothing like us! She grew up like a Muggle! She doesn’t know anything about our culture and our history, but she thinks she’s better than us because she’s a damn Gryffindor and happened to be on the right side of the war!”

“Maybe we didn’t grow up the same way, but we like a lot of the same things now, and the best thing about Gryffindors is that when they forgive you, there aren’t strings! She and I have talked about the past and we’ve decided to move on, together. I suggest you grow up and do the same.”

“Don’t think about bringing her back here.” Hermione could practically hear Pansy’s finger jabbing into Draco’s chest. “You may be willing to open yourself up to self-righteous ridicule, but I am not. If you think you can date her and be friends with us, you’re more naive than I thought.”

“Don’t make me choose between you, Pansy. You’re my oldest friend. I think if you tried to get to know her—”

Hermione had had enough of this conversation. She soundlessly backed up a few steps to the middle of the foyer and closed her eyes for a second. Taking a deep breath, she pasted her friendly smile back on her face. “Draco?” she called as though she had just emerged from the loo. “Did you find our jackets?” she moved back toward the cloak closet as Draco emerged. His hair was mussed, as though he’d been running his fingers through it. Pansy came out shortly after him, scowling.

“Have a good night, Parkinson,” said Hermione as brightly as she could muster. “Can we Floo out of here, Draco? I’m pretty tired.”

Draco nodded and led the way to a large fireplace opposite the front door. “Good night, Pansy,” he said. Pansy pointedly did not respond to either of them as Draco called out their destination and they spun away in the warm green flames. 

When they arrived back in her apartment, Hermione made a beeline for the couch and flopped down. “I heard you guys in the cloak room. I’m sorry it was such a disaster, love.”

Draco collapsed on the opposite end of the couch and tried to smile. “Well, at least when we meet your friends next week it can’t possibly be any worse.”

* * *

It was worse. 

Upon finding Draco Malfoy in her home, Ginny Potter née Weasley had promptly hexed him on sight. Fortunately, Draco had the foresight to duck behind an end table and though her hex narrowly missed the champagne he was holding as he held his hands up to protect his face, it landed harmlessly on the wall next to the door. 

“Ginny!” Hermione cried. “What are you doing?”

“There’s a  _ Death Eater _ in my house, Hermione! Why aren’t you hexing him? Where’s your mysterious boyfriend?

“Draco is my boyfriend! Did you think he broke in by himself to bring us champagne?”

“Hey, what’s all the commotion in here? James just fell aslee—” Harry walked in and his demeanor instantly changed from concerned friend to hardened Auror as he drew his wand on Draco. Hermione cautiously stepped between the two of them, hoping her presence would be enough to prevent any curses from being exchanged. Not that she had to worry about Draco. A glance behind her confirmed that he was still crouched with his hands in the air, wand holstered. She supposed it was good that he seem as non-threatening as possible but worried that he could be seriously hurt if he didn’t defend himself against her friends. 

“What’s going on in here?” Ron wandered in, dropping the bruschetta he was holding and drawing his wand as well. 

“We—”

“HE—”

“I—”

The noise escalated as they all tried to talk at once and a spell from Ron blew up the end table Draco was still half behind. A scream pierced the air as the volume had apparently woken James. 

“Great,” sighed Ginny, glaring at Draco and heading for the stairs to comfort the baby. She threw up a silencing charm on her way out of the room. 

“What’s he doing here?” Ron spoke too loudly, his face turning red as he stared Draco down. 

“He’s with me!” Hermione shouted. “I brought my boyfriend for dinner, he brought you champagne, and all my friends just fucking hexed him when he walked in! Come on, Draco, let’s just go home.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward the Floo. 

Ron’s face turned from red to purple as they spun away. “HOME?!” he shouted at Harry. “Is Hermione living with a Death Eater now?” his voice followed them through the flames. 

_ Living with a Death Eater…  _ The words echoed in Hermione’s head as they landed in her too-quiet living room. They weren’t living together, yet. She thought they might be heading toward something more serious, more permanent, but she didn’t know they could if her friends couldn’t coexist in the same room with him. 

“I’m—” Hermione started to apologize to Draco but he stopped her, finally drawing his wand. 

“Let’s just get cleaned up.” He started carefully summoning the splinters out of his skin. 

Hermione went to the bathroom to find some Dittany, tears beginning to leak from her eyes. 

After they cleaned themselves up, they were too exhausted to go out to dinner, but of course they had been planning to eat at the Potters’, so Hermione didn’t have any food in her flat. They ended up popping the champagne and drinking it straight from the bottle. Of course, drinking on an empty stomach was never a good idea, especially when you were already upset. 

An hour later, Hermione was nearly inconsolable. “What are we— _ hic _ —going to do, Draco?” she wailed. 

“We can just stay here,” he said listlessly.

“I can’t stay in my flat all the time. I’ll go crazy. I need my friends.”

“You should have your friends,” he said. 

“But they hex you. Don’t want you to get hexed. Love you.” Hermione hugged a throw pillow to her chest. 

“I love you too,” Draco replied. “But we don’t live in a bubble. And we can’t go anywhere. Your friends hate me, my friends hate you… Life will be hell if we try to go out together.”

Hermione stood up, staring at him through tearful lashes. Her eyes burned with the makeup that she kept rubbing into them every time she wiped her face. “What are you saying?” she whispered. 

Draco stood too. “I’m saying… I’m saying that this is all we can have together. This flat, and Muggle takeaway. If this is how our friends react to us, what are the papers going to say? The general public will probably go back to hexing me on the street, and they might start going for you too. We can stay like this, but it was stupid to think we could have more.”

“If you think that we can’t make it, then maybe you shouldn’t stay at all!” Hermione screamed at him, throwing her shoe for good measure. 

Draco took one last look at her face, blotchy and red, streaked with mascara from her tears. He burned the image into his brain, a reminder of what being with him did to her in case his resolve crumpled later. “Maybe we’re not worth saving,” he whispered, summoning all the bravery he could muster for the few steps to her Floo. 

When he arrived in his own living room, he fell to the floor. If this was him being brave, why did it feel so much like running away?

_ I’m afraid, I’m afraid, I’m afraid  
_ _ I’m afraid, I’m afraid, I’m afraid _


	3. three

A week after the dinner fiasco, Hermione couldn't stand it anymore. She couldn't relax in her flat, hated being there alone, knowing that Draco wasn't going to Floo over if he had time and that she wasn't going to see him later that evening, or the next day. She had been avoiding him at work, taking little-used side passages to meetings and eating lunch by herself in her office, but she still caught glimpses of him occasionally and every time her heart ached. She was sick of it, and she wasn't the type to sit around and mope. So Saturday morning she went for a walk to psyche herself up and then Apparated to the doorstep of his townhouse. 

Hermione knocked gently on the door but no one answered. She knocked again, louder. Eventually she was pounding on the door, still with no response. Tentatively she took out her key to the door, hoping he hadn't changed the wards yet. She hadn't had the courage to remove him from hers, hoping against hope that maybe he would come back. Cautiously, she unlocked the door, sighing with relief as it opened easily and she was not repelled from the entrance. Her sigh soon turned to disappointment as she realized the house was empty. The lights were all off and it was silent. Still, she meticulously searched every room until she was forced to admit to herself that Draco wasn’t home. The whole time she was searching, her anxiety mounted as she tried to not to wonder where he was since he clearly wasn’t home. Despondent again, she Flooed back to her own flat. 

There, on the couch, was Draco, sprawled out and sleeping peacefully. The bags under his eyes and his mussed hair indicated that though he was sleeping now, he likely wasn’t sleeping any better at night than she had been. Relief washed over Hermione, and she wormed her way into his arms. 

The movement woke Draco briefly. “‘Ermione?” he asked blearily. 

“Shhh,” she said. “Go back to sleep.”

“Missed you,” he said, closing his eyes again.

“Me too,” she whispered. 

He sighed, and shifted to make more room for her next to him. “Let’s not fight anymore,” he suggested, and she laughed softly. 

“I think we’ll always fight,” she said. “But as long as we end up back here we’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “We can try again with our friends now that they’ve had some time to get used to the idea.”

Hermione smiled, and closed her eyes too. “Sounds good, but not right now.” 

His arms tightened around her. “We’ll be sore this afternoon if we nap on the couch this morning,” he said, making no effort to get up. 

Hermione shrugged and neither of them moved again as they drifted off to sleep, together. 

* * *

_ Maybe I'm just too good  
Maybe I'll run away  
Maybe I'm over you  
Maybe I shouldn't stay  
Maybe I just don't care  
Maybe I talk too much  
But baby I'll be there  
Yeah, baby I'll be there _


End file.
